A poem about procrastination. Never put it off until tomorrow, you may not get a chance. |
Today relent as leisure tempts, tomorrow's only sorrow kept, for if you live from that day from, the wilderness of idioms, you'll find a world to overcome, In looking past an hour glass, to settle in the gentle grasp, of hours that lull you fast to sleep, in dreams serene and far beneath, a silence in the time we keep, Unbridled is the idle deeds, so blindly to the mind it feeds, desired lies that intertwine, resembling melancholy cries, " Thought it best, not even try" Sensing first unquenching thirst, to face when vicious waves immerse, and drown my soul in static wakes, not drinking from a moments take, when faced with endless time to make, If taught to rest on thoughtlessness, the wisest then denies the quest, and mourns endeavors made in haste, to perils of the feral waste, with days you past but can't erase, Consider age and frittered days, not far away from wars we wage, on vacancy and vanity, and images of truancy, for what we long shall never be, Treasures find a measured mind, conceived in our reprieved delight, " And life to me, is death to some" when we are done and not so young, you'll find a world to overcome, |